


Photos From When We Were Young

by wyrmonastring



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Episode 4 Mildly Angsty BS, Songfic, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 18:31:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyrmonastring/pseuds/wyrmonastring
Summary: Years after the trial, Ash Campbell takes some time to reminisce about her youth.





	Photos From When We Were Young

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Photos From When We Were Young - Nana Grizol

Five years later, Ashley Campbell was still learning to cope with the loss of her closest friends, still trying to quit blaming herself. Sometimes, she would recollect on her teen years, back when everything was okay, even though it hurt. Today was one of those days where she needed to remember a happier time with her friends, she thought, pulling out an album of photos she had taken back in high school, when artistic inspiration still came to her, before everything had gone to shit.

_I was looking at photos from when we were young  
Your hair is light blue and you're smiling in one_

She was flipping through the album, reminiscing, when one of her and Sal caught her eye. Her hair, then much longer, was in a loose braid, and his hair was in a messy bun. His prosthetic was off, and they were both grinning. God, what she wouldn’t do to step back into any of these pictures and relive the beautiful moments with her friends that she had taken for granted. 

_Oh so unsure of ourselves_  
_Making mistakes without anyone's help_  
_And I thought of the ways I remember you well_

She thought of how foolish they were back then, thinking they could take on the world, but unsure they were making the right choices. She kept a picture of the four of them in a locket, to cling to the memories.

_Some sweet recollection of redwoods and raspberry vines_  
_Boys you wrote postcards to numerous times_  
_The uncertainty then_  
_Like some sentence of sin_  
_Punctuated by moments of tenderness_  
_When there were long conversations, sharing of beds_  
_Walks home from swimming pools_

She thought of shared summers, boys who had visited Nockfell on summer vacations who Sal had tried to write to, sleepovers the four had during summer, usually at Larry’s, going swimming in her neighborhood’s pool the first time they had managed to convince Sal to go, teaching him how. 

_So you made a family from people you found_  
_Your grew into yourself with those weirdos around_  
_Late nights talking at home, or dancing 'til dawn_  
_Or driving all day, 'cause you're sick of the phone_

She thought of how close the four had been. Inseparable. A family they had chosen. They had become better because of each other. She remembered late night talks at sleepovers over what seemed meaningless at the time but meant the world now, jamming out to music in Larry’s room when Lisa wasn’t home, long drives with Sal when the two of them just needed to clear their heads.

_Yeah, the good ones they tend to leave town_  
_It helps to write letters and say "come on down"_  
_Yeah I'm so much better when you're around_

She thought of how they must have all felt when she told them she was going away to art school. Obviously, they were all ecstatic to hear she had been accepted, they thought the world of her and her art, but surely there had been some pang of sadness watching her drive away. She thought of the letters they had all written her that she had been too swamped with work to read. How many of them had been invitations to come back? How would things have played out if she had come back sooner, or hadn’t left at all? She shouldn’t have left, she told herself. All that lost time… all the art blocks that had been so much easier to work out with her friends to keep her mind off of things…

_And I think of you when I put on your old clothes_  
_We don't talk all that often, who ever does?_  
_But I'll visit you soon and sing you a tune_  
_About finding a family somewhere in the ruins_

She still had all of Sal’s old things. Neil had given them to her after Todd’s institutionalization, something about how he couldn’t bear having Sal’s things around. So it was just her, Maple, and Gizmo in an apartment, adjusting to life as it had become. It was comforting sometimes, wearing Sal’s old oversized sweaters. They smelled like his room and were covered in Gizmo’s hair, but having anything to cling to his memory was comforting.

Sometimes, on bad days, she would visit Larry in the dilapidated treehouse to reminisce about the past, for comfort, to let it all out about how she tried her fucking hardest and it wasn’t enough to save Sal. The faded graffiti on the rundown apartment reading ‘FREE SAL’ always stung, but it was nice to be able to see Larry. 

Talking to her friend’s spirit was the closest she had to the good old days. She didn’t have a way to see Sal’s ghost, and if she did, would he want to see her? And Todd… poor Todd. From what Larry passed along, the cult had taken him that fateful night of the murders, forced him to become the red-eyed demon’s new host. She wondered if there was any of Todd left. She had tried visiting a few times, but got nothing more than a faint flicker of recognition in his eyes when she was even allowed to see him.

She had branched out into music at the suggestion of Maple. Found a new outlet to express herself. Sal’s electric guitar had been taken as evidence, but he had an acoustic guitar among his things. It had taken ages to get right, but she taught herself to play, pouring her heart and soul into a song about how the four of them had met, had been family, among all the chaos of the world. Numerous sleepless nights and numerous days curled up in the treehouse went into perfecting that song. 

Larry told her it was great, that he knew Sal and Todd would love it too if they could hear it. It helped a little, eased the ache in her chest ever so slightly.

It was comforting, getting to talk to Larry. Despite Maple becoming at peace with what happened, and having somewhat forgiven Sal, knowing the circumstances, she hated talking about it. Ash couldn’t blame her, she had lost so much.

Ash worked to make peace with what had happened.

Even though it hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> wig ok i can't write for shit i hope anyone who reads this thinks it doesn't suck


End file.
